On Tuesday night, my body was thrumming with anxiety and I wished so badly that it was the normal giddiness that filled me whenever I knew Ryder was coming over. No, I was a wreck, because I knew tomorrow morning I would be leaving my home and there was a fairly good chance I would not be returning. And if I did make it back, I would be wrapping my life up in neat little plastic bags anyway.

Leaving everything and everyone that I loved here behind. No more sleepy mountain town, no more regulars at the coffee shop.

The good news was that my arsenal had been restocked. I had enough silver coated arrows to take down a small army. Four knives of varying sizes had also been provided, two specially designed for throwing, the other two for closer range emergencies that I would hopefully not have to use. I had spent my morning with Milo, inspecting each piece for imperfections, then deciding how I could put them on my body for the smoothest access.

I was thankful for every second Milo spared me because I knew he didn't owe me or the rest of the werewolf hunters a single thing. He had an eye for things that I skimmed over and he knew tricks that allowed him to walk away from situations that should have killed him. It was the only reason that I kept my mouth shut when he asked me what options I thought would save a few seconds. The tightness in my shoulders, the constriction of my chest told me that a few seconds were not going to matter. I was going into the den. Surfacing again was going to take a god damn miracle, far beyond something that a few weeks of training could offer me.

It was what drove me to see my parents again. I knew my mother didn't care when I walked her through a basic skin care routine just as I knew my father couldn't understand me when I babbled along about the car. It didn't stop me from sobbing softly into my hands when I told them that I was going to be moving away for a while. Armond and Dawn had offered to move my parents to a new facility, but I didn't want my parents to go through the stress. Especially if they were moving to follow someone who might never come home anyway.

Maybe I should have spent my last few hours rehearsing the plan, making sure I knew every step of it.

I didn't care. I had called Ryder up as soon as I left my parents' facility. He answered on the second ring and seemed delighted that I had found a terrible movie about mutant sharks attacking a small island community.

I was slicing up a cucumber for a veggie tray when he let himself into my home. Part of me thought it was a little early for the comfortability. Then I reminded myself that I had lustful thoughts the very first time I laid eyes on him. Social norms aside, all of this felt right.

"Hey Georgia," he greeted. As per usual, his mouth saying my name made my legs weak. And as per usual, he came with his arms loaded with goodies. "Did you know that the local brewery also makes pop. I had no idea. They have a black cherry cola and a grapefruit soda." He placed them on the counter, pushing them towards me.

"Not risking rootbeer again?" I teased as he pulled me into his arms and planted a kiss on my forehead. It was amazing how something could be so exhilarating and second nature all at once. And it was crazy to me that I wanted it, that I was happy to have him hold me so casually, as if it were as natural as breathing. I did nudge him away so I could continue prepping the vegetables though.

"I drank that garbage because I'm a gentleman. I will not be doing it again," he stated.

"You subjected me to pop punk covers in the car afterwards."

Ryder wasn't someone I envisioned blushing often, but this seemed to be a soft spot for him. His cheeks heated and he shook his head. "That was an accident. I forgot that I was listening to that playlist. But you told me that you didn't mind them. Besides, I listen to all kinds of music. I was just reliving my angsty teen years. You can't tell me you didn't have sidebangs and blast rock when you were younger."

"I actually didn't. I did bleach my hair blond though, hated the colour of it because some lacrosse guy that I had a crush on said he liked blondes. So I spent my weekends going to lacrosse games that I didn't care about or roaming around a mall to find products that would keep my fried hair from falling apart."

Ryder snorted at that. "We wouldn't have been friends back then. It's even a little hard to picture you like that."

He was right, of course. I would have hated this little rented house, would have turned my nose up at working at a coffee shop and not some big corporate job. "Things change."

"That they do."

A few minutes later we were settled on my old, lumpy couch with the veggie tray and our craft sodas. We took turns guessing what would happen within the first five minutes, but it was hard to keep my attention on the screen when his arm was wrapped around my shoulders. Was this what is what supposed to be like? Was I supposed to feel this attracted to him? Was every touch supposed to sent sparks down my arm, deep into my belly?

I tried to stay focused. I really did. The movie was awful and predictable, just the way I liked them. Sharks attacked. Humans fought back. The threat changed. Humans were eaten. Useless animal jargon was thrown around, as if the writers suspected the audience didn't know anything about nature. We were right on track for the humans to win.

But my attention kept drifting to Ryder. When he would celebrate his correct predictions, when he would laugh at an absurd scene – which was all of them really-- I found myself watching him more than the film. My fingers itched the trace the line of his jaw that was covered in stubble. I wondered what those lips would feel like under my gentle fingers or the noises he would make if I nibble his ear just right.

"You aren't even paying attention," he pointed out, those mercury eyes never leaving the screen. "Maybe you just lied to me about liking shitty movies so you could pretend that we have a common interest."

I think that with another man, I would have blushed furiously and blurted out an excuse. Or said something sharp tongued that would make him recede. With Ryder, I didn't feel the need to lie. Slowly, I reached up and brushed my fingers over the soft skin just behind his ear, drifting into his thick, dark hair, all just because I wanted to.

"I wouldn't lie to you about that. I just got a little distracted, that's all," I whispered, letting my mouth drop closer to his ear.

"Georgia." It was a warning.

And tonight, I loved a challenge. I decided that I didn't want my mind to be filled with what-ifs anymore. I didn't want to wonder about how he would respond to certain things. I wanted to know. When my hand reached the back of his head, I curled my fingers, tugging on his hair. Then, I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his ear as I said, "How am I supposed to focus on anything but you?"

"Georgia," he repeated, his tone shifting to one I hadn't heard yet.

"Yes, Ryder?"

One moment I was toying with him, fully aware that I was playing with fire. The next I was straddling him. I didn't know who moved first. I just knew that he was between my legs, that my hands were gripping his shoulders and his face was level with mine. Christ, it made me catch my breath.

"I love hearing you say my name," he confessed, his fingers gripping my hips.

I didn't care much for words in that moment. I couldn't. he was beneath me. I felt like I could hardly breathe, much less make coherent sentences come out of my mouth.

I lowered my lips to his instead.

The movie was completely forgotten when he kissed me back. For how gentle he had been previously, his aggression stunned me now. Arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him while he let out a moan, like he had been waiting for this for far too long. He tasted unlike anything I could describe, a blend of warm spices and sweetness that made me cave into him. His tongue brushed my lower lip, subtle and smooth. I opened for him immediately.

Wild, heady thoughts filled my mind. Having him under me, only my shorts and his pants separating us, I thought of wicked, unholy things. Like how he would smirk at me from between my thighs, or how he would moan when he slipped inside me. I could feel how rigid he was already. It only pushed my fantasies farther. I could take him to my room. Or we could make good use of this couch, there was no point in complicating the process.

A large hand came upwards, my chin caught between the thumb and forefinger. I only had a second to mew in protest before his mouth was on my jaw.

"Hell, Georgia, you're going to break me," Ryder groaned, bucking his hips hard. His voice was gritty in my ear.

Then he was kissing my neck. Gently at first, like he was testing the water. Just soft kisses, barely enough for me to even feel. I squeezed his shoulders hard, pressing my breasts against his chest. With each exhale, I was repressing the urge to tell him what to do. But he knew. When I pushed him, he pushed back. He started leaving wet open mouthed kisses on the side of my throat, trailing downwards. Teeth nibbled on my collarbone. I just whimpered.

The kisses remained rough, surely rough enough to leave a mark, but he began making his way back up. Slow, calculated. I didn't understand. It felt just as urgent as before, but the pace was painfully sluggish. I wanted it. I wanted all of it and I wanted it now. I fisted his shirt, trying to pull him to me. There was a pinch of pain when his mouth met the base of my throat, right in the slope between my shoulder and my neck. I was melting for him. I was soft clay that he could mold anyway he wanted.

He pushed me back.

My body went rigid. His head slumped forward, his brow resting against my shoulder. For a moment there were no sounds outside of our heavy breathing.

"Ryder?" I whispered gently. He stayed perfectly still, not moving as I released my hold on his tee shirt and shifted back on him lap. Dread built. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come onto you like. I'm sorry if I read the signs wrong."

His head lifted then and I watched his mouth move as if he were running his tongue over his teeth. Finally, he spoke, "Don't apologize. I wanted it. Fuck, I still do."

"Well, we can—"

"I just think that maybe we should take things a little bit slower, that's all." His breaths were coming in a little easier now, the smile on his lips tentative, but warm. Somehow, it didn't settle the swarm of bees whirling around my mind. "We don't have to rush. We have time and I really want to do this right. All of this."

"But—"

"I'm not going anywhere, Georgia. Not for a long time. you don't have to worry about that," he vowed.

I had forgotten that I should have been worried about that. He might not have been leaving any time soon. But I might not be coming back. 

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What is the best thing that happened to you today?